


Windowman/Windowboy

by FanFicReader01



Category: Poets of the Fall
Genre: Window
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:05:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11297895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanFicReader01/pseuds/FanFicReader01
Summary: A street musician crosses the path of a young but sick boy.Inspired by a short movie :3





	1. Sudden encounter

The sun starts to lower and the people on the streets have decreased. I look at the content of my guitar case. Today was a good day when it comes to generous spectators.

I lazily start to pack my stuff and want to make my way home. Maybe I should try my luck at this place more often. In fact, today was the first time I played in this part of the city.

 

It’s getting darker and I have some difficulties finding the right way home.

At one moment I swear I’m lost. Tired, I put my guitar case and backpack down on the cobble stones.

I decide to actually look at the map I brought with me for once.

 ‘Hm, this doesn’t look familiar’, I mutter to myself as I inspect the map.

Then I become conscious of the fact that I’m holding the map upside down. Annoyed by my own stupidity I slap myself on the head.

 ‘Argh, you idiot!’, I curse before turning the map in the right direction. Suddenly I hear a weak laugh coming from somewhere. I look around me but I don’t see anyone.

 The voice of a kid shouts something at me. The voice comes from one of the houses.

When I look up, I see a kid standing behind an opened window.

 I wave at the boy and he waves back. He says something in a language I don’t understand.

‘Sorry, kiddo, but I can’t understand you! Not understand!’, I shout back. The boy shrugs his shoulders and simply smiles at me.

The kid disappears only to reappear a few minutes later with a piece of paper in his hand.

I frown as I wonder what he is doing. He is staring at the paper and then I understand he is mimicking my previous actions on my attempt to read the map correctly. He laughs and I laugh back.

 ‘Shouldn’t you be in bed by now? It’s already ten PM!’, I ask him even though I know there’s a language barrier between us. To explain what I mean, I put my hands together and bring them to my left cheek. I tilt my head a bit and pretend to sleep. Afterwards, I point at him and repeat my previous gesture.

 The boy heavily shakes his head. He points at his room and does the same sleeping pose as me.

I still don’t know what he means. I scratch the back of my head and say: ‘I have to go now. Sorry.’

My finger points to the end of the street. I also point at my watch.

Luckily the boy understands and waves me goodbye. I say my goodbye too and walk off.

 

\--

 

The following day I go back and when I walk passed the house of the boy, I make a quick stop.

I put my guitar case down and look at the window. My eyes glare over at my watch.

 ‘Hm, it’s still early in the morning’, I murmur to myself.

Then I see the curtains get shoved away and the window gets slightly opened. This time I see a woman behind the window. From what I can see, she’s wearing a nurse uniform with the traditional cap on her head.

 When we make eye-contact we share an awkward smile.

A bit disappointed, I walk away so it doesn’t look like I’m some kind of weird stalker.

 

But during noon, I take a break from being a street musician and decide to pay the boy a visit.

This time there is no nurse to be seen at the window.

‘Hey!’, I yell but there comes no response from the boy. After I shouted five times, I get some weird looks from other pedestrians. I huff.

To draw new attention, I pick up my guitar and start to play a little. And as expected the window opens and I see the boy. He waves at me and I wave back.

 His eyes look dark. He has his hair almost on shoulder length. The kid’s skin is quite pale and now I realize he must be very sick and that’s the reason I saw a nurse earlier this day.

 ‘Hey!’, I greet the boy.

‘Hey’, the kid says back and he now points at my guitar.

 ‘This is my guitar. Guitar. I perform on the streets’, I tell him. I take off my hat and point at the inside of it.

 ‘People throw money in it or in my guitar case’, I explain as I tap my foot against the open case. The coins make a rattling sound.

The kid nods understandingly. He does a thumbs up and disappears from the window. I decide to keep playing. A passer-by nods at me and gives me a coin.

 ‘Thank you very much, stranger’, I thank the woman.

Suddenly I feel something hit my head. A clink is heard when the object hits the stones. I see it’s another coin. I pick it up and now I hear laughter coming from the window.

 I point the chip at the boy who quickly puts his hands against his mouth. ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’, I snort.

He shakes his head and stammers something which sounds like an apology.

 ‘Thank you, though’, I grin and make a little bow. ‘But I don’t need your money’, I state afterwards. I throw the coin back but soon after I get the thing catapulted back to me.

 The boy insists I keep the money.

He gestures to me and I understand it as: keep on playing. And so I do. I sing a new song while keeping eye-contact with him. He lets his fingers drum along on the window frame.

Happily the kid claps his hands. When I’m done, his clapping intensifies until he needs to cough heavily.

 ‘Whoa, take it easy, kid!’, I out my concern.

Then he points at himself and says: ‘Jari.’

 ‘Your name is Jari?’, I guess and the boy nods.

‘Nice to meet you, Jari! I am Jaska. Jaska!’, I reply.

 ‘Hey, Jaska’, the youngster says.


	2. Days that go by

Most of the time, I’m just lying in my bed. I’ve read all my books thrice already. Too bad my parents don’t want me to buy some new ones.

Every day is the same drag. The nurse wakes me up. She gives me breakfast, cleans my room and leaves. Twice a week the doctor visits me and that’s almost it.

Until recently, my life has changed a little.

It has changed when I met Jaska, the friendly street musician.

 

I first met him when he seemed to be lost.

It was on one of those nights where I couldn’t sleep so I walked up to the window to gaze at the stars when suddenly this strange man comes along. He was lost and he was looking at a map.

It made me laugh out loud when he realized he was holding the map upside down all along.

My laugh alerted the man and we made eye-contact.

We tried to talk to each other but we soon found out we didn’t speak each other’s language.

Yet, I felt some kind of click between us.

I secretly hoped he would be underneath my window the next day. And it actually happened.

 

Now Jaska visits me almost every day.

He plays his guitar and sings too. I wonder how many songs he still has before he has sung everything.

Sadly I don’t understand the things he says. But the songs speak for their own. That’s the wonderful thing about music: you don’t always need to know the language to understand it.

Now I only know how to greet him and how to say goodbye.

The rest of our communication is done by body language and facial expressions.

I think it’s pretty fun to be able to talk with him even though we verbally don’t understand each other.

 

That language barrier has led to many funny misunderstandings.

 

But one day Jaska has decided that only playing the guitar and singing wouldn’t be interesting anymore. So he has started to do little sketches in front of my window and I love every minute of it.

 

He once acted out the _entire_ Hunchback of Notre Dame. He had brought many different clothes with him that day so he could switch between characters.

To play the hunchback, he had made a big pile of clothes, wrapped it together with a belt and then strapped it onto his back. Over all those layers, he laid a big coat. It was a funny sight.

The expressions he made to imitate Frollo really made me crack up. I was laughing so hard that I really started to cough badly and he had to stop his little theater so I could catch my breath.

 

Another time, Jaska told me the tragic love story of two people. His play got carried by his guitar and he also sang some parts.

I didn’t need to understand his language to know what was going on.

The biggest surprise was when he asked a random stranger to play along and he even _kissed_ that stranger during the finale.

 

Everyday a new song. Everyday a new play. When Jaska sings a song, I drum along with my hands.

He gives me a big thumbs up and sometimes he lets me play a solo and then he is the spectator instead of me.

I wonder if I should ask my parents to buy me a small drumkit but I’m afraid they’ll think someone who’s sick like me doesn’t need a drum kit.

Which makes me question if I’ll ever get better. Doctors keep telling us I won’t get better any soon but I try to stay positive about it all.

 

For now, I’m very grateful to see Jaska every day underneath my window. He brightens my dull, life with his cheerfulness and energy.

Maybe he has become my new reason to keep believing.


	3. It's all in the past now

With some effort I struggle through the thick snow to reach Jari’s house.

It’s silent on the streets. Mainly because of the bad weather I assume. Bad weather or not, I still want to brighten the kid’s day even if that means I literally have to crawl through piles of snow.

Carefully I put the suitcase on the snow. Today it’s going to be Superman, I think as I pull a large cape out of the case. I wrap it around my neck and then I put on the mask. It’s made of an old sock of mine.

 ‘Urgh, should’ve washed it first’, I grumble as the thing is in place.

I stare at the window and call out for Jari. There comes no response. I wonder if he’s sleeping. The last month I felt like he got sicker.

I had to pause my plays more often because he had to catch his breath from all the coughing.

‘Jari? Pst? Jari?’, I try to whisper but I know the boy wouldn’t hear me if I did that so I start to raise my voice.

His parents don’t seem to notice me either.

Suddenly I feel a bit nauseous. I decide to knock on the door for the very first time. No one opens.

Then I decide to do something which would be considered invading one’s privacy but I must know.

 I find one of those large ladders and place it against the window. A bit clumsily I crawl onto it.

My heart starts to beat faster each time I reach higher.

 ‘This can’t be real. This can’t be. He can’t be…’, I keep repeating myself as if it would change anything.

Finally I reach the window and I look inside. It’s almost like my heart gets crushed at the sight. The room is empty. No bed of a sick patient or anything that  hints at someone living here.

 

Devastated I descend from the ladder. I tug off my mask and throw it in my bag. Out of the suitcase I take one of the balloons I’d send to Jari from time to time.

After I’ve blown the balloon up I use my marker and write on it: _goodbye, Jari_. _~ Jaska_

I start to tear up when I let the balloon go and I see it fly into the sky without being caught.

 

Suddenly I feel something heavy fall against me, making me lose my balance.

I yell when my face hits the snow. Then there’s laughter. Very _familiar_ laughter. I turn around in the cold snow and see Jari’s looking and laughing at me.

There’s a healthy red on his cheeks and his overall look is healthy.

Even though I’m laying in the cold snow, my heart and body gets warmed by the simple sight of Jari.

 ‘Oh gosh, Jari! I… I thought you were…’, I stammer emotionally.

Jari understands what I want to say and finishes my sentence by “slicing” his throat with his index finger.

 I can’t help but laugh and nod.

‘Yes. I really thought that’, I sigh. ‘I’m so glad to see you alive and well!’

Jari nods and then literally jumps in for a warm hug. He feels surprisingly warm.

 ‘Jaska’, he mutters as he leans closer to me.

More he doesn’t need to say to make me understand.

_I’m cured, Jaska. I’m alive and well._


End file.
